


Come August

by hanarobi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanarobi/pseuds/hanarobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old school filming LOTR. The story about the princess and the tapestry is a real story I read once as a child. I wish I could remember the title and author, but I can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come August

The first time it happened the sense of disorientation was so intense he stumbled to the ground and started vomiting violently. He felt hands on him, holding his head up so he wouldn't choke. Other hands trying to wipe the sickness off his chin and lips. He heard yelling but couldn't make sense of it. He heard Frodo's voice and he knew he wasn't talking. That implication sent another spasm through him and he convulsed into a second round of vomiting.

He woke up in a hospital bed, more exhausted than he had ever been in his life, to find his mother sitting beside him. The doctor just said exhaustion, dehydration, stress, and sent him home with a bottle of vitamins and a stern lecture.

Mom reluctantly returned to LA and Hannah, and Elijah returned to the set after a couple of days of hanging around his house, everyone bringing him food, bottles of water, and DVDs. He had a long talk with Peter the night before he returned to the set. Peter talked about responsibility, maturity, consequences, being sensible.

Elijah just chewed on his fingernails until they were gone and then started on the inside of his cheek. He didn't need the lecture. He hadn't gone overboard. He hadn't exhausted himself. But how the hell could he explain what had happened? He didn't know what had happened. And it scared him. Scared him enough that he couldn't talk about it. Better to let them think he had gone wild with his first taste of adult freedom, let them think he was as stupid as any other eighteen year old. Better that than the truth, whatever the truth turned out to be.

 

So he had listened to Peter with just the right look of irritation and remorse. It always amazed him that people who knew he was an actor and had been one his entire life thought they could read him correctly in real life. Hell, pretending in front of Peter was his job. This was just one more scene. Elijah decided that Peter was like everyone else and simply ignored what he didn't understand. Elijah really wished he could just ignore what was happening to him because he sure as hell didn't understand it. And he didn't know where to turn to even begin to understand it. Maybe he was losing his mind. It was the easiest answer. Problem was, it didn't feel like the right answer.

Sometimes, when he feels almost used to the idea, he allows his mind to drift and wonders what he will miss the most, assuming 1) that he survives and 2) he isn't just completely psychotic and imagining this whole thing. The people of course. Mom, Hannah, Zach. Peter. Dom.

He's glad he can curl up in such a tight little ball, his legs bend and knees tuck under his chin, arms wrap all the way around so that he feels encircled, secure, even if it is just himself holding himself. Better than nothing. Holding himself together literally. For now. He knows the time is coming when he will come apart. Or something. Since he doesn't think he can keep this "whatever-the-hell-it-is" from happening, he wishes he could at least figure out what is going to happen. Will he disappear? Will people continue to look for him for years, never giving up hope? Or will they hold his funeral? He tries to decide which one would be easier for his mom to deal with. He can't imagine her having to go through any of it. He'd stop it if he could. He just doesn't know how. He will miss her. He will miss them all. Knees are a very good place to rest your head. You can hide behind them and people will think you are just resting since they won't be able to see how red your eyes are.

With each movie completion, the sensation becomes stronger. He is being torn in two. He can't concentrate. He makes other movies. He doesn't care about them. It shows. It doesn't matter. He drinks. He plays. He travels the world. He gathers up experiences. He indulges himself. The things that matter become even more important. He spends his time, his remaining time, with his family, his friends. He is greedy. He is joyous. He doesn't give away bits and pieces of himself anymore. His actions become more outrageous, more desperate, although no one seemed to interpret them that way. So many explanations are given. None of them are correct. It is finally Hannah, who has spent more time with him lately than anyone else, going where he wants to go, doing what he wants to do, who calls him on it.

"I don't know. And I'm scared." The most honest answer he has ever given.

She tells him a story she read as a child. Something about tapestries. She doesn't remember the title or the author. He really wishes she could; it might help. But the story she tells him is this: A plain, rather ugly princess is to be given away in a loveless marriage by her unfeeling, disappointed father, the king. The princess, Eliza, (Elijah suspects Hannah made up that name for his sake) is very, very good at needlepoint. As the day for her wedding draws near and she will have to leave everything she knows, she prepares a final tapestry. A montage that includes the images of all she loves, the most important figure being her beloved dog, Prince, that she has had since he was a puppy. The afternoon she finishes stitching in the final threads to complete the dog's image, the dog disappears. She calls for him and hunts for him well into the dark of night, but he does not answer her calls. Heartbroken, she goes to bed and cries herself to sleep. In her dreams, he returns to her. He tells her that her imagery is too perfect, too lifelike. So real that he cannot exist in both places, the world and the tapestry. She hastens to undo the threads, to bring him back to her. He stops her and tells her that he is old and will die soon anyway, but in the tapestry world, he will live forever. He then tells her she can join him in that world and they will be together and safe, forever. The next week the princess is obsessed with finishing the tapestry, stitching her own image into the work. The day before her wedding, she finishes. The last stitches are those of her eyes. She stares at her own completed image. Bites off the final piece of thread, rolls up the tapestry, and tucks it away in the far reaches of a long forgotten cupboard. The next morning the castle is in an uproar but no matter how hard they search, the princess cannot be found.

Elijah just looks at Hannah. He thought she was going to be helpful. She just shrugs. "Got a better explanation?" she asks. He doesn't. So Peter's vision of Frodo is too real? His portrayal of Frodo is too real?  
"If you're right, what's gonna happen come August?"

She doesn't know.

He asks her to explain things to their mother, if he isn't around. She cries and holds him, and promises.

It's August now. Any day now Peter will be done. Frodo? A look in the mirror. Should be him, but he isn't sure anymore. He reaches out to touch Frodo's face and feels Frodo's fingers on his own. Frodo. This time he is sure who is looking back at him. Who knows, maybe he'll like Middle Earth. So why is he crying? Frodo looks back at him, full of compassion. And welcome. He tries to smile at Frodo, an attempt to reassure him that's he's okay, despite the tears. Frodo's smile back at him is the stuff of sunshine, dark elven woods, and enchantment. It is going to be okay. Elijah reaches out and Frodo takes his hand. Their hands fit perfectly, but how could they not? Peter clicks the final save button and the movie is finished. Elijah takes a deep breath and lets Frodo pull him across.


End file.
